Seven drabbles
by Redenzione
Summary: Seven drabbles about Chuck and Blair pertaining to quotes from Gossip Girl, and Gossip Girl extra's. M To be safe.


'_Do you remember when I asked you if I could have a bulldog....'_

Blair was crying on the swinging chair of one of her private pre-schools. Serena and Nate were monopolising each other – and they didn't even like Yale.

Tears ran down her already stained cheeks, Dorota was unyielding in her refusal for a new addition to family – one that would no doubt cement her future for Yale. Her best friends hadn't really cared a hug or two, a share of chocolate before they settled down to 'silent reading time' which constituted of silent 'foot wars' and note passing. Serena always managed to have the most gossip – something Nate found 'awesome.'

Blair sulked to herself on the chair, willing her tears to stop. If she had a bulldog she was sure that she- and not gossip would be 'awesome.' She almost cringed to herself; it was such a vulgar word.

She heard the crunching of the leaves and rustle of clothing before she felt a blanket being thrown over her bare legs. Chuck sat next to her and moved the swing slightly. His posture was relaxed as he spread the blanket over both of them. One arm behind her head, the adjacent legs stretched out only slightly more than his other.

She scrunched up her nose, "don't even think about playing foot wars with me Chuck Bass."

He scoffed and looked at her sardonically, "please, I have better things to do with my time then kicking someone for fun." She nodded, satisfied and looked out towards the playground that had to her horror, despite its tackiness, been a recent addition to their 'learning education.'

She felt another thing being placed in her lap and looked down. She gasped audibly and looked at the boy next to her, he was fiddling with the pencil that he normally had behind his ear. "That's why you weren't in class – you were getting me this."

The small toy bulldog stared at her pitifully and she smiled. "It may not be as good as the real thing, but hopefully it should do – until such a time as the real thing comes along."

"Thanks Chuck."

"_A suit of armour makes for a cold bed pillow…"_

Her bed was cold – with or without Marcus. It hadn't been warm for a very long time. Flesh was what she needed.

Sleep evaded her and she thanked god her mother had taught her well with French cosmetics. Dark circles were something not to be tolerated.

As was closing her eyes and having memories of hot, gasping breath. Husky, whiskey- filled mutterings against her neck. Luxurious upholstery and burning, burning skin.

He tormented her, even without words, she could feel the tingling begin at the apex of her thighs and let out a breathy moan. The threw the covers over her head and whimpered.

Motherchucking Basstard.

"_What names does he call you when you make love…where does he put his hand…?"_

Nate called her Blair; his hands were normally around her torso, or on the bed.

Marcus called her Blair, his hands were cradling her face, or her on her back.

Chuck, called her Blair, called her Waldorf, called her nothing. His hands were everywhere.

"_I need you to make me feel alive…"_

Because, from the look on Chucks face, he knew that –from her utter inane slow reaction of removing her hand from his immediate grasp – she was desperately hot for him.

She had to prove once and for all; not only to herself, but to Chuck and Marcus that she was his – Marcus's. Completely and utterly.

Marcus was the one that could make her feel alive now. His kisses were light and chaste. Not light and feathery, not rough and passion filled, not raw and romantic.

Marcus loved her. Chuck loved her body. Blair loved all of Marcus; it was about time everyone got used to it.

"_I though you said you were better?... yeah, just not for you…"_

He was the best she ever had. It was unfortunate that he was the best because they loved each other. He had never performed as well as he had until that moment – it had been and experience one that he would doubt he would forget in his life time.

He could feel the chunks rise up in his throat as the girl kissed him hard, it was like poison had slowly began to eat away at his heart, it was shrivelling and slowly decaying into nothing – the thought of Blair, experiencing what they had had, with anyone else. It was breathtaking – and not in a good way.

He had been better than anyone. Because she loved him more than anyone else in the world. They hadn't known it at the time, it wasn't what had been expected – but they were right for each other. It was destiny, fate. It was years in the making. And soon, they would be ready for each other.

He was Chuck Bass, the best Blair Waldorf had ever had, and he was determined to make it stay that way. For life.

"_I know what the pin means to you…"_

He was the first person Nate showed it to – he was also the first person to know what Blair intended by it. He was the one to help her purchase it after all. He was the one that first mocked her about it. He was the one that calmed Nate down after he had received it.

He was the one that gave her his sweaters to help her learn to sew. He was the one to give those sweaters to the poor afterwards. He was the one to pick gold over silver. He was the one to say size doesn't matter.

He was the first one to absolutely hate the pin and all that it stood for. He was the first one she truly loved – and yet had never received it. He was the first one to reject having it.

"Every guy you gave that pin to ended up not being your one and only. That's not me."

"_Imagine the queen B putting her crown on in the morning…"_

Her mother always said she should have a wardrobe dedicated to her headbands; it was a topic that had caught her interest – and had almost happened, if it weren't for Cyrus's option.

She glared at her computer screen, _**"how about having a sale – I mean you only wear them once." **_The insolence that came through that remark bugged her and she had spent the better part of a week convincing her mother – and blackmailing Dorota to not get rid of – or even touch the drawer that contained some of her most precious possessions.

Getting up from the bed she walked over to her bureau and sat down, a small smile played on her lips as she opened the drawer and gems – not of the sparkly quality, gleamed up at her.

Her heart pin – that had yet to find its true home.

A two picture frame - one of her family, one of her friends.

A dollar bill – the first pocket money her parents had ever given her.

The only headband she had never worn. White plastic with a small bulldog in the corner. It had been the last one left and Chuck had gone to Yale with his father a month before she had.

It wasn't one of a kind, but she could almost guarantee that she would be the only person who still had her's left.

* * *


End file.
